


You Can't Be Missed If You Never Go Away

by princehurley



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Multi, monster au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princehurley/pseuds/princehurley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he had first moved in, Gloria had insisted on checking in on him every sunday at precisely 12:30pm.<br/>“So you haven’t seen him yet?” she’d ask, refusing to actually ever enter the apartment.<br/>“Nope. Sorry Gloria. No spooky paranormal activities this week.”<br/>“Good. Keep burning the sage and he won’t come around. I don’t want him back.”<br/>Now Gabe had no clue who this mystery guy was or why he was so bad. Gloria was just a slightly senile old woman, so he just let her visits keep happening. Plus, the sage was awesome for masking the smell of weed, so whenever he smoked, he burned it. But seeing that he hadn’t had the time (and money) to buy weed, the sage sticks had just piled up in his kitchen. No harm no foul, he guessed. Probably. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Be Missed If You Never Go Away

If Gabe had his way, he’d be relaxing in a 5,000 square foot loft smack in the center of New York. He’d have a constant supply of hot water, reliable air conditioning, good pest control, and neighbors that didn’t have contests on who could moan the loudest. But seeing that all he had was a few hundred dollars and a philosophy degree to his name, Gabe Saporta was going to have to deal with his tiny apartment on the outskirts of Brooklyn.  
But trying to find the positive in the absolute worst, he figured that he was lucky to be living there, in an odd way. Rent was dirt cheap and the bar he worked at was only a few blocks away. Both the subway and bus station were relatively close, so visiting his friends back in Jersey wasn’t too difficult. The nightlife around the area was pretty good and it wasn’t the shadiest place he’d ever lived (that prize belongs to Jersey City). Besides the obvious problems with the apartment, the only other real problem was the old lady that kept knocking on his door every sunday.  
Since he had first moved in, Gloria had insisted on checking in on him every sunday at precisely 12:30pm. Fresh out of mass, she would come to check that Gabe was still alive.  
“So you haven’t seen him yet?” she’d ask, refusing to actually ever enter the apartment.  
“Nope. Sorry Gloria. No spooky paranormal activities this week.”  
As on cue, she’d sigh and mutter something that sounded like a prayer under her breath. Then, she’d rifle through her bag and pull out a stick of sage and a business card with a prayer printed on it.  
“Good. Keep burning the sage and he won’t come around. I don’t want him back.”  
Then she’d just walk away and leave Gabe baffled and confused.  
Now Gabe had no clue who this mystery guy was or why he was so bad. Gloria was just a slightly senile old woman, so he just let her visits keep happening. Plus, the sage was awesome for masking the smell of weed, so whenever he smoked, he burned it. But seeing that he hadn’t had the time (and money) to buy weed, the sage sticks had just piled up in his kitchen. No harm no foul, he guessed. 

“Gabe, you going out with us tonight?” Ryland asked as he wiped down the bar. He and Gabe were working the dayshift at the bar, which meant shitty tips and even shitter people. Ryland was one of Gabe’s closest friends, so he didn’t mind working the shift as long as Ryland was there.  
“I am Gabriel Eduardo Saporta, of fucking course I’m going.”  
Ryland laughed, grabbing a rag to wipe down the bar. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to give your liver a break or not.”  
“Nah, my liver is indestructible dude. It survives off of vodkas and redbulls”  
“Not sure that livers work like that” Ryland said, throwing the rag at Gabe. “Finish wiping down and I’ll go rinse off the glasses in the back.”  
“And by rinsing off the glasses, you mean texting your boyfriend Alex, right?” Gabe asked.  
Ryland flipped him off, though he was already taking his phone out. 

The rest of the shift dragged on. A few local drunks came in and ordered their usuals (one blue ribbon followed by a shot of jager and then capped off with a rum and coke) and some out-of-towners who wanted a beer and some greasy fries. Neither of them left tips over two dollars. Surprising. Eventually, the clock above the bar read seven o’clock. Grabbing their coats, Gabe and Ryland made their way to a local nightclub a few blocks down. 

Decaydance was obviously not the top club to be at in Brooklyn. Most of the windows were boarded up and some type of drug deal was always happening inside or outside. The floors were sticky with who knows how many years of grime and the guy’s bathroom was pretty much just a pit at this point. But it was one of those “local only” types of places, so they couldn’t stay away from there for long. They were headed to met up with Victoria, Nate, and Alex. The five of them were an interesting bunch. A clusterfuck of people trying to figure out how the hell the navigate life. 

“So Saporta did decide to show up” Victoria said as Gabe and Ryland slid into the booth, “We were all taking bets on whether you’d show or not.” Gabe stuck his tongue out at her. He was very mature...seriously.  
“After you puked three times yesterday, I thought you weren’t going to live.” Nate chimed in from beside Victoria, his brown hair a little disheveled and his eyes glassy (Gabe assumed he had pregamed before he got to the bar) “I was ready to plan your funeral.”  
“And what would my funeral entail?” asked Gabe after ordering a round of vodka and redbulls for the table.  
“Bright ass colors and weird snake statues. Maybe a guest performance by Paula Abduel if we start fundraising now.”  
“Oh! We could also get one of those party buses instead of a hearse.” added Victoria, her high cheekbones starting to flush from the alcohol. “To save money the great Alex Suarez could cater it.”  
“I would cook as long the wonderfully talented Ryland Blackinton hosted the ceremony.” he responded, leaning in to kiss Ryland’s neck. The table grimaced and all downed the rest of their drinks. They all loved Ryland and Alex’s relationship, but sometimes they needed a little alcohol to deal with their cutesy antics. 

“Too bad I’m not dying any time soon, cause my funeral sounds lit as fuck.” Gabe laughed, already ready to order another round. “Ryland, would you add anything to my death party?”  
Ryland stroked his metaphorical mustache.  
“We’d need a fountain that only shot out scotch.”  
“Not vodka?” Alex asked.  
“Scotch is more classy. We need some class, it is a funeral after all.”

As the night weaned on, the group downed more and more alcohol. Ryland and Alex left after they each had about three drinks each, probably to go fuck before one of them passed out. At one point, Victoria dragged Nate to dance, even though she was two inches taller than him in her massive heels. Gabe eventually went up to join them, drunkenly flailing his lanky limbs to the shitty house music. They must have been a sight to see. Nate with his flippy hair and ripped jeans, Victoria in a high end dress and perfect makeup, then Gabe trying to mesh between the two in a neon hoodie that should have been burned.  
Around six drinks in, Gabe decided to call it a night. He waved goodbye to Victoria and Nate, who were waiting for a cab to take them home. Gabe had mastered walking home drunk at this point. He knew where the potholes were and the alleys to avoid. Honestly, he would sleepwalk his way home if he needed.  
Approaching his door, he pulled out his keys. After several failed attempts to stick the key in, he finally got his door open. 

“God damn I was waiting for when you’d get home” a voice said from his couch. “It’s rude to keep a guy waiting you know?”

Gabe stood open mouthed and frozen in his doorway. Before him stood...well..he didn’t really know what the hell it was. It would have looked like a normal guy (he was wearing a red hoodie that Gabe, for a second, was jealous of and jeans like his own), save for the sharp white fangs, tiny horns that peaked out underneath a mop of shaggy black hair, and massive black staring eyes.  
Digging the heel of his hands into his eyes, Gabe hoped that whatever he was seeing was a drunken hallucination. Blinking, he hoped that it would be gone. 

“Ya, that ain’t goona work dude. I’m real.” The thing moved towards Gabe and extended a hand, “I’m Pete.”  
That’s the last thing Gabe remembered before blacking out.


End file.
